CHAPTER CONTENT WARNING
- death [referenced past event]
He was initially disappointed that he'd so readily affirmed the future rendezvous. After all, he needed to put some distance between himself and Natalia. The longer he pondered it, though, the less it felt like a poor choice. Gradually increasing his time away from La Stella Luminosa was better than a more obvious pattern, such as suddenly visiting every-other-day instead of every day.
Besides, what's done is done. No need to risk any doubt of his sincerity by going back on his word (even if he could easily fabricate a believable excuse).
"Hello?" Hans called as he crossed the threshold of the main cabin.
"Hello, Lars!" Mirella answered without a pause in her meal preparation.
Natalia looked over her shoulder with a smile. "Hello, Lars."
Mirella inspected Natalia's bowl. "This is good. Go on, now."
"Alright." Natalia wiped her hands on a towel, then joined Hans at the doorway.
"Shall we read outside today?" Hans inquired as they entered the adjacent cabin.
"Uhm, actually, I was hoping to finish something—" Natalia touched the closed sketchbook on her dresser, "—if that's alright with you."
"Of course," Hans assured her. He retrieved The Captain's Daughter and made himself comfortable on the lower bed of Leone's bunk.
He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, someone was timidly prodding his upper arm.
"Lars? Lars?"
He opened his eyes to see Natalia's face.
"I'm sorry, I feel bad waking you..."
"Why are you sorry? I'm the one who should be apologizing for falling asleep." He rolled towards her and propped himself up on his right arm. "Therefore, I'm sorry."
Natalia giggled. "Dinner's almost ready. Mamma will call us when it's done, but I figured you wouldn't want to go in groggy." She retreated to the stool as Hans slid off the bed.
"I appreciate that," he acknowledged with a stretch. His gaze landed on the sketchbook still atop the dresser. "Did you finish your drawing?"
"Oh, yes." She picked up the bound pages and parted them. "I finished a few, actually." She held the open book out to Hans.
He took it with a smile. She really does trust me. He studied the first work, a dog chasing a stick thrown by a boy. Next was a cat looking out a window at birds flying over city rooftops. The last was a scene of two old men playing chess outside a barber shop.
"These are fantastic," Hans complimented. "Very fine details."
Natalia blushed and smiled. "Thank you."
Hans returned the sketchbook. "I'm glad you showed them to me."
"Uh, you're welcome?" she replied in an unsure voice.
He chuckled. "You should show them to Pierre sometime."
Her smile was clearly forced. "Perhaps."
"SUPPER!"
Natalia sprang to her feet at her mother's call, seemingly relieved by the interruption. "Let's go!"
Hans trailed behind. "You're awfully cheery today."
She merely giggled as she entered the cabin.
He followed, but stopped short at the sight. "What's all this?"
Several kinds of wildflowers were strung up around the room. Multiple dishes sat on the counter, with a frosted cake in the center of the array.
"Happy birthday!" the family chorused.
Hans gave them a befuddled pucker. "It's not my birthday."
"Well, since we didn't know you on your birthday, we're celebrating it now!" Leone explained.
Hans knit his brows, feeling oddly light-headed. I must be hungry. It's best to start eating anyway, especially after they went to all this trouble for me.
"That's very kind of you." He put himself in position to examine the food, and pointed to a particular platter. "Is this æbleflæsk?"
"Yes!" Mirella replied. "I heard it was a traditional Southern Isles dish. I hope you like it."
"It's one of my favorites," Hans admitted. It was seen as a commoner's meal, but he had eaten it often enough in his royal life (mostly when dining with the servants to avoid his brothers). He paused to take in the four beaming faces around him. This will undoubtedly be better, though.
"More cake?" Leone inquired as soon as the last bite entered Hans' mouth.
Hans shook his head, swallowing before speaking. "I'm stuffed."
"Good!" Leone exclaimed, retrieving three packages from the bed. "That means it's time for presents!"
Presents? Hans couldn't help his disbelief despite the parcels set before him. He was used to receiving only one gift, presented by an unenthusiastic servant. It was always a historical tome, though the exact one varied each year. Not that he'd received one this past birthday, of course. I'm sure everyone was pleased about that, if they even remembered at all. He touched the ribbon on the closest present.
"Go on, open them!" Mirella encouraged.
Hans picked the large, squishy-looking one first. I'm pretty sure this is... As he suspected, inside lay clothes — two sets of trousers, three shirts, five pairs of socks, and several undergarments.
He raised his eyes to Mirella. "Thank you."
She waved him off. "I should have given them to you sooner, but I wanted to make sure everything could be interchanged and still match."
Hans allowed himself a bemused smirk. Only someone like Mirella would bother with the fashionability of a stable hand's wardrobe.
The second package contained a Bible. Hans examined it curiously. It wasn't the family Bible he'd glimpsed on occasion. This book was bound in brown leather instead of black, plus it was more worn. He gingerly opened the cover.
"Sorry it's so beat-up," Leone apologized. "Someone passed it on to me. It's been read every day for who knows how long."
"So it's important," Hans surmised.
Leone nodded. "That's why I gave it to you."
Hans pursed his lips, ignoring the odd sensation in his chest. "I can't accept this."
"Yes, you can," Leone countered.
"It's rude to refuse a gift, Lars," Mirella scolded.
Hans' form shrank slightly. "Yes, ma'am." He placed the Bible atop his new clothes. "Thank you, Leone."
Leone grinned. "You're welcome!"
Hans returned the warm expression, though he doubted the book would receive the same level of use under his ownership. Well, at least I'll have something to read when they're gone.
Hans opened the third gift to reveal a wooden frame. Inside the rectangle was a pencil drawing of two horses running through a field. He immediately looked at Natalia.
"Mamma insisted we frame it," Natalia mumbled.
"Of course I did! The paper will last longer that way!"
"After all," Leone added, "you spent so much time perfecting your present that it deserves special treatment!" He smirked as his sister's face flared crimson.
"Thank you, Natalia," Hans stated appreciatively. He cast his gaze around the room. "Thank you all. There are no words to adequately express my gratitude. I can never repay your generosity."
"You've never needed to," Vincenzo declared, "and that will not change. We love you, unconditionally. Remember that."
What?
His shock must have been evident, as Leone's smile widened.
"You're part of this family, Lars," he affirmed. "We treat you the same way we treat each other."
"Even though today isn't your actual birthday, we still wanted to celebrate you," Mirella expounded. "After all, every day is a day for us to be thankful that you were born."
The room twisted before him. Hans clutched the table with one hand and his chair with the other. His chest felt like it was going to burst, yet simultaneously had the sensation of being crushed by a horse. After a moment, he realized the others were standing and speaking to him; however, his brain was not comprehending their words.
"I need a minute alone," he mumbled, stumbling outside.
He somehow managed to close the door, leaning against it. His blurred vision crisped with the city skyline in view. Disgusted bitterness filled him, and he dragged himself up the staircase to the bridge. Flopping against the rail at the stern, he fixed his eyes on the open water beyond the harbor.
He couldn't have been there more than a minute when nearly-silent footsteps alerted him to Natalia's presence. He pivoted towards her.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, "but I was worried—"
"I'm fine. It's nothing," he dismissed her, turning back to the water.
She inhaled audibly. "I know you better than that."
Hans noted the irony in such a claim, but she wasn't exactly wrong. They'd spent enough time together that she — and the others — recognized the unusual effect the moment had on him.
His head was still spinning, and clear thoughts were difficult to perceive. While he couldn't pinpoint the origin of his uncharacteristic behavior, he knew the most logical source. Best give them a reason, otherwise they'll speculate.
He glanced at her. "This is the first time anyone has willingly celebrated my birthday."
"'Willingly?'"
"My mother died giving birth to me. Needless to say, no one appreciated being reminded of her passing." Hans expelled an exasperated puff of air. "My father and brothers only acknowledged my birthday out of obligation. If they could trade my life for my mother's, they would."
He glanced up again to find her studying him intently. "Natalia?"
"Has... has anyone ever shown you any love?"
He matched her gaze.
Love? What was love, exactly? People deceive themselves into believing it exists, but it's merely a senseless emotional state. It's only useful for controlling others. Still, even as he denounced the concept, recent memories forced their way forward. From the first night he'd met them, these people had done nothing but give him the best they could give. If that's love, then...
"Just you and your family," he murmured, returning to his aimless gazing.
She joined him at the rail. For a moment, all was still, save for the water and the breeze.
"Why don't you stay with us?"
Hans' head snapped left. "What?"
Natalia's earnest countenance was only augmented by the moonlight. "Why don't you live here, on the ship, and come with us when we leave?"
He knew what she meant without the explanation; he was simply surprised to hear her offer. "I can't," was his only response, looking away again.
He could feel her eyes boring into him before she spoke. "Whatever it is that keeps you here, I'm sure we could find a way to help you."
"No, you couldn't," he snapped. Only Father can lift my sentence, and it'd take an act of God to change his mind.
He noticed Natalia's slight tremble, and realized he'd upset her. "I'm sorry. I didn't intend to react harshly." He supported his weight on the rail and focused his attention on the tiny waves breaking against the ship.
A pair of arms slipped around his left one, and two hands clasped his own. He turned and found her face to be uncomfortably close.
She locked her gaze with his. "There's nothing you could ever do or say that would make us love you any less. We'll do whatever we can for you, so please don't be afraid to tell us if you need something — anything."
Despite his intense stare, Hans saw no trace of doubt in her. Sweet, sincere Natalia...
He almost believed her. Almost.
If you knew the truth, you'd make no such promise.
"I can't leave Købense," he began, breaking the silence, "but maybe your family could settle down here."
"I don't know," Natalia sighed, absentmindedly running her thumb over Hans' knuckles. "Everyone likes traveling around..."
"Everyone except you," Hans concluded from her tone.
"This is our life now. Even if they could change it, I wouldn't ask them to."
"You can change your life, Natalia," he encouraged. "If you want to stay in the city, you could find some sort of employment or apprenticeship."
"I suppose," she mused, "but I'm not sure I would have the skills or strength for such a thing."
"Well, there's always the marriage option," Hans suggested. The topic was intentional, though he inwardly cringed at Natalia's stiffened, wide-eyed reaction. This isn't going to end well. "Which reminds me: how was last night with Pierre?"
She withdrew her arms and repeatedly smoothed her apron. "Uneventful."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Both."
Her evasiveness frustrated him, but he was careful to remain chipper. "Stay optimistic. The next outing will be better."
She didn't respond.
"Are you two going to be up there all night?!" Leone's voice echoed from beneath them.
Natalia smiled at Hans. "Let's go back inside."
Author's Note: According to my very quick research, æbleflæsk is fried pork slices served with either a compote of apple, onion, and bacon or just apples that were fried in the fat.